


Guard Dog

by RedBird1991



Category: DCU (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6474211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBird1991/pseuds/RedBird1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was supposed to be a fun little warm-up fic. The "fun" part is questionable. A bit of gore, mentions of blood, very minimal language, character death... It's so short that if I say too much it'll be spoiled, so enjoy what you can and if you have any suggestions feel free to let me know because it has been a long time since I've seriously written and could use the help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guard Dog

A cold shiver ran down his spine as his grandfather approached him. As if in slow motion, his footsteps came closer and closer. The weight of each step on the marble flooring of the training area was echoing in his ears. A small voice in his head told him to back off, but he told it to shut up. That wasn’t his fighting style. Back off, _tt_ , that wasn’t what a warrior did. He was a warrior. A soldier. Soldiers never backed down and _dammit_ he was a soldier! 

Wasn’t he? 

For a moment he questioned why he was suddenly doubting himself, doubting his abilities, when he knew for a fact that he was...how did Brown word it? At the top of his A-game? 

He kept his heart rate steady. He conserved his breath and energy. He prepared for his grandfather’s move, staring at his slow-approaching figure. 

Only a few feet apart now, he drew his sword and took his stance as his grandfather held his sword behind him before swinging the blade straight for Damian’s head. Damian knocked the blade away with a swift _clang_ of their swords. 

The fight started slow, like his grandfather was allowing Damian to warm up. He didn’t need to warm up. He was always ready to fight. Always ready to _win_. With each strike that Ra’s made, Damian either dodged just in time or struck his blade against the other with focus and precision. 

The battle gradually increased in both speed and force; Ra’s’ twirling grew sharper as Damian’s jumps and flips became swifter. Their blades sang every time they came into contact with each other and the ringing was almost deafening to Damian’s ears. 

Though Ra’s’ skill was intimidating and deadly, his age was showing against the young boy whose movements were quicker and just as deadly. 

Damian found an opening and made a run for the nearest pillar. He ran up and leaped off, floating above his grandfather. He swung his sword down from above and behind his head as he flew forward and aimed it right for Ra’s’ head. He had him finally; he knew it. Just like he predicted. He was going to win, but the actual fall to victory seemed to take forever as time seemed to almost slow. The blade was aimed perfectly between Ra’s’ eyes. Damian could see them go from brutal to hopeless. He cackled to himself. The sheen of the blade reflected off of Ra’s’ skin, merely centimeters away now. _Take that, Grandfather! I always knew I could surpass you! I knew I could defeat you all alo-_

Time seemed to stop again. Only now he wasn’t falling forward. He was stuck, caught in mid air. There was an instant sharp pain searing through his chest that caused his hands to drop his sword. The clang of metal against marble rang through the arena like a set of chimes. He blinked, held his breath, expecting to be mistaken at his current state. There was no way... Ra’s hadn’t moved. 

Damian looked down at his torso, his suit starting to collect the flow of blood from the blade that held him up in the air. His organs screamed at the ever-growing pressure as he coughed and watched more blood spit from his mouth. No. No, this wasn’t happening. Not again! He had this! He couldn’t… No. Ra’s hadn’t moved, how could he be holding the sword now? No! 

Damian gritted his teeth, sucked in whatever air he could manage, and clenched his hands around the blade. He tried to release the pressure from his chest, his lungs, his heart. It wasn’t working. He couldn’t control his breathing anymore, nor the pounding from his heart that clogged his ears, and now his hands were dripping with blood from him increasing his grip on this _damned blade!_ Damian coughed out more blood as he watched his grandfather smirk at his dangling and struggling body. 

He saw Ra’s form the words, “What a pathetic failure.” 

He couldn’t hear his grandfather say it; his heart was pounding with too much force, but knowing what he said was enough to send tears to fall from the boy’s eyes. He was stuck. He grunted and whined as reality set in that he was… Going to die… Again. With what he knew would be the last of his breath, he screamed to the one human he could count on to find him and bring him back, “FATHER!”

His frail body shook and shifted. Sweat from his forehead mixed in with his tears as they streamed along his face. There was a heavy weight that caused him to sink in on himself even more and he turned over and gripped at the edge of his bed to keep himself from falling. He tried turning over once more, but there was something large and warm that leaned against him and prevented him from moving around so much. In his mind he was still dying, but through his sobbing he heard a muffled, “Rruhf.” 

The familiar sound shocked him into opening his eyes. They burned too much and were so blurred by tears that he couldn't focus on anything. His body felt frozen. He was still sniffling, but he couldn’t feel himself doing so. He felt trapped. He couldn’t even force himself to move until a large and slobbery tongue nearly engulfed the side of his face as it repeatedly wiped away tears, snot, and sweat. 

Damian lifted his arm up to shield himself from Titus’ massive mouth and turned around to look at his dog face to face. Titus laid his head down next to Damian’s and softly whimpered before licking the boy’s face with such excitement that he caused the child to fall backwards. “Titus. Titus, stop!” Damian demanded. He was trying to use his arms to shield his face from the onslaught of slobber, but it wasn’t much use. Titus shoved his face anywhere he could to lick the boy’s face “clean” and was even going as far as to lick his hair. He didn’t stop until Damian released a soft giggle.

“Titus,” Damian said a last time and placed his hands on either side of Titus’ head, pushing himself back and away enough to look into the dog’s big, playful eyes. With one hand still on Titus’ face, Damian sat himself up on his bed and wiped the slobber away with his sleeve. He grimaced at the awful smell; Titus must have been in the middle of eating dinner when he heard him crying. 

He crossed his legs and sat up straight. With his eyes closed, he took in a deep breath for a slow four seconds, held his breath for two, then exhaled for another slow four seconds. He repeated this process, forcing himself to collect his thoughts, until he felt a tail patting against the opposite end of his bed. He ignored it, but it persisted. 

_Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat…_

“I have a set pattern to follow, Titus, and you are disturbing it.”   
The dog sounded a playful “broof” and wagged his tail twice as fast. Damian sighed, opened his eyes, and smiled at Titus. The dog’s eyes seemed to smile back at his young master. The boy leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Titus’ neck. He felt Titus lay his head against his back, returning the hug as best as he could. Damian buried his face into his dog’s shoulder and he whispered, his voice muffled, “You are to speak of this to no one. Is that understood?” 

Titus ruffed in response and sat perfectly still as Damian held him with a smile.


End file.
